Tales of the Wolf: Book 02 - Enter the Wolf

by A. E. McCullough

  Hawkeye and Anasazi both looked to Matanza and Lodur for confirmation. Lodur’s expression was unreadable but not the young stallions. His expression was all they needed to see to know that Broun was telling the truth.

  With a slight grin, Broun cast a sidelong look at his friend. “Now, I know Manny is getting old and slow.”

  The worried look fled from Matanza’s face, as he turned his equine body quickly to the side, knocking Broun to the ground. The diminutive halfling landed with a loud thump. Ignoring Broun’s protests, Matanza picked up the story.

  “We tried to outrun the fog bank but it gained on us. We tried every trick I know to lose it but on the open plains there is only so much you can do. In the end, it overtook us.”

  Sir Richard finally spoke up.

  “Our story is much the same. We left Krantos for a routine patrol of the western borders of our realm. My liege had received reports of bandits harassing merchants. We were only a few hours outside the city when we encountered the same mysterious fog bank. It came upon us like an attacking dragon, fast and silent. When the fog cleared, we were in your village clearing standing next to these three.

  Anasazi asked, “What did it feel like?”

  Broun, Matanza and Sir Richard all furrowed their brows and shrugged their shoulders. But it was Matanza who asked, “What do you mean?”

  “Just that. What did it feel like? Was it cold and malicious or warm and comforting?”

  The three looked at each other for a moment, before Broun answered. “Now that you mention it, the fog did have a warm and comfortable feeling to it. I never really thought about it until now.”

  “Is there anything else that you can remember, a smell, a feeling, a voice, anything?”

  Broun and Matanza exchanged glances and shrugged their shoulders. Anasazi was about to turn away when Lodur finally spoke, not to Anasazi or Hawkeye, but to Matanza and Broun. “You are forgetting something my young friends.”

  Broun turned to his older companion and asked, “What did I forget? I told them everything.”

  Lodur tapped out his pipe. “You didn’t tell him about your dreams.”

  Broun just shook his head. “I told you before old man, Manny and I just ate some bad venison or something. That wouldn’t have anything to do with the weird fog bank.”

  Placing a calming hand on Broun’s arm, Anasazi spoke in a soft voice. “Indulge me, please?”

  Broun felt a comforting warmth flow out from the old man’s touch. Nodding his head he began his story. “The really strange part was that we both had the same dream. It was dark and we seemed to be in the wastelands. There wasn’t any vegetation around, only rocks, dust and some sickly weeds. Soon the wastelands gave way to a forest of old dead trees. Near the base of one of the trees was a nest of twigs. As we got closer, we could see there was an egg in the nest. Suddenly, a large red eagle swooped in to land on the nearby tree. As we gazed at the beautiful eagle, she glanced over her shoulder and spoke to us.”

  As Broun paused to collect his thoughts, Hawkeye couldn’t wait any longer. “What did the she say?”

  Matanza answered. “Beware of the darkness. We followed her gaze and could see that the entire horizon was filled with a darkness that seemed to be spreading. There was one point of light on the horizon and it seemed to be moving back and forth as quickly as possible, like a moth fluttering near a fire. As we watched, the white light seemed to be swallowed by the darkness. The red eagle screamed in protest and shot off into the night air.”

  As Matanza paused, Broun picked up the story once more. “With a final glance at us, she spoke to us once more. ‘Protect my child from the darkness. Hide him until the Nine are ready.’ Then she flew into the darkness. A moment later the ground shook and the heavens quaked. That’s when we woke up.”

  Anasazi looked at his nephew. Hawkeye nodded his head slightly. They both could guess the significance of the dream even if Broun and Matanza didn’t.

  The old shaman turned his attention to the old Halfling and asked, “And what of you Lodur? Have you had any strange dreams?”

  “All of life is a dream. Our course is set, awake or asleep it does not matter. The dreamer becomes the dream and the dream becomes the dreamer.” Grinning, the old halfling turned back to the fire.

  Anasazi looked at Broun, who just shrugged his shoulders. Turning toward the knight, the ancient shaman asked, “Have you had any strange dreams lately?”

  Playing with his mustache with his left hand, Sir Richard nodded his head.

  “Well actually, yes I have. As a Knight of Krantos, I am sworn to protect my kingdom against all enemies, foreign and domestic, natural and unnatural. I have fought pirates, gnomes, cyclops, dragons and wizards. According to our legends, Minos founded Krantos after the last battle of the gods with the great enemy over a thousand years ago. Since then, the Knights have trained and prepared themselves for the return of the great enemy. One of our training rituals is called the Circle of Combat. Those that complete this ritual are sometimes blessed with a vision from Minos. About a month ago, I received one. I was standing on a large battlefield that was already stained with the blood of an untold number of warriors. Before me was a black wall of bodies that seemed to twist and shift into hideous forms. The black wall blotted out the horizon and was slowly advancing on my position. Looking around, I could see the great walls of Krantos behind me and the line of my fellow knights beside me. With a crack of thunder and lightning Minos’ voice came from the heavens, ‘The darkness ahead threatens your homeland. You cannot prevail against so many adversaries; you can only hope to delay them. There is only one chance to save your home and all of Terreth but alas it is not yet his time. It is your duty to give the Chosen One time to prepare. When your time comes, I am relying on you to do your duty to me, to Asylum and to Terreth. Remember: Honor, Duty, Courage.’ As soon as he was done speaking, the black wall roared loudly with the voice of a thousand tortured souls. My fellow knights and I drew our weapons as the darkness attacked.”

  Sir Richard looked up and fixed his dark brown eyes on Hawkeye’s grey ones.

  “It seems to me that Minos has sent my men and me to aid you against the coming darkness. I cannot explain our arrival any better than that. One of Minos’ maxims goes: ‘The enemy of mine enemy is my ally.’ It seems to me that we face a common enemy.”

  He held out his sword arm. “So I ask you, are we allies or enemies?”

  As Hawkeye grasped the knight’s offered arm the lodge fell silent as the two warriors studied each other. Sir Richard, the Knight Commander, looked the more impressive with his shiny armor, well-manicured hands and neatly trimmed mustache. On the surface, he seemed the larger and the more powerful of the two. But Hawkeye the Wolflord in his furs and rustic armor was also impressive. Tall and muscular, he radiated an aura of calmness and power, one that could not easily be ignored by anyone who experienced his presence. Even Broun felt slightly uneasy under the Wolflord’s gaze, not that he would ever admit that to anyone.

  A moment later, Hawkeye nodded his head. “Welcome my friends. It will be a great honor to have you at our side in our next encounter with the Dark Alliance.”

  Nodding his head, Anasazi stood up. “Well my friends let me welcome you to the last free village of the Highland Nation. It seems…”

  Pointing at the Wolflord, Broun interrupted. “Your nephew already did that. What I want to know is what do you plan on doing with us?”

  Smiling Anasazi patted the young halfling on the head, knowing that halflings hated that action more than just about anything. His tone took on a harder edge.

  “If you wouldn’t interrupt your elders you might learn something. There is an old saying; the fool chatters, while the wise man listens. Show me how much wisdom you have gained in your short life.”

  Broun snapped his mouth shut and looked sheepishly at the floor. Matanza and Sir Richard just waited patiently.

  After a moment Anasazi continued. “As I was saying, it seem
s that Sir Richard is correct and that the gods are at work in our favor. Luna promised us some help with the spring thaw. I would guess you are it.”

  Broun looked up and blurted, “But I don’t follow the Moon goddess. I follow Hodios, the Master of Mischief!”

  Mimicking the halfling’s own impish grin, Anasazi winked. “I would guess Hodios had a hand in getting you here. Doesn’t it seem a little mischievous to you?”

  Broun froze with his mouth still open and a great puzzled look plastered all over his face. A moment later, “You know, I never thought of that. Well if Hodios wants me here, then here is where I’ll be.” Bowing his head to the old man, “It will be an honor to aid you and your people in their time of need.”

  Anasazi returned his bow. “The honor will be all ours.” He nodded toward his nephew. “Hawkeye is our leader and he will take care of your duties and responsibilities. You have come to us in our greatest time of need and for that, we thank you.”

  Turning to leave, he paused at the door and looked back. “Just remember…the stakes are higher than just the survival of the Highland Nation. This war is about the fate of every man, woman and child on Terreth. We cannot fail! If we do, then all of Terreth is doomed.”

  With that Anasazi turned and walked out of the lodge.

  Cocking his head toward the disappearing shaman, Broun commented. “Gloomy type, isn’t he?”

  Shaking his head, Hawkeye took in a deep breath. “No, not really. He is just carrying a heavy weight on his shoulders, the fate of Terreth.”

  Hawkeye moved toward the entrance. With a wave of his hands at his new friends he said, “Come. Let me show you around and offer you whatever hospitality we can spare.”

  Sir Richard, Lodur, Broun, Matanza and the rest of the knights fell in behind the Wolflord. As they exited the lodge, Hawkeye nodded at the two warriors and they disappeared as silently as they had appeared.

  “Let me tell you a little story. It all starts with a young elf maiden running from a rampaging wolf pack…”

  Chapter 27

  Time passes quickly when war looms on the horizon. Although it was still cold and the snow still fell, everyone could tell that spring was on its way. Many of the animals had begun to venture out of their winter quarters to scrounge for food, while the Highland Nation began the gruesome task of preparing for a war they neither wanted nor could they win.

  Sir Richard and the Knights of Krantos immediately began patrolling the countryside twice a day. About a week after their arrival in the camp, Sir Richard was tending his horse after their morning patrol when Tatianna approached him. The knight commander spied her moving through the camp toward him and paused in his grooming to watch the pregnant elf.

  Nearing full term, she still moved with the sublime grace that all elves seemed to possess. She was dressed in a beautiful green silk gown that flowed out behind her and her fiery hair was pulled back fully revealing her milky white skin.

  Bowing low, Sir Richard placed his right hand over his heart in the formal greeting of the elves and said, “Good morning m’lady. How may I be of service to you?”

  With a curtsey and a smile, Tatianna moved alongside his horse. “Good morning sir knight. How was your patrol?”

  “Very routine but some of the lower passes are beginning to show signs of a thaw. They are still snow covered but a desperate or determined man could cross them.”

  Tatianna nodded her understanding at the unspoken warning that soon the passes would be open and all of the Highlands would be at war.

  Turning her attention back to the horse, she asked, “I was wondering sir knight why do you ride a dapple grey mare and your men ride black stallions?”

  Sir Richard returned to his grooming.

  “I am not sure how much you know about horses but they are naturally herd animals, usually led by the strongest mare.” Nodding his head toward the nineteen black horses picketed nearby the knight commander continued. “All of my men’s horses are geldings and even though they can no longer sire a foal, the instinct to follow the Alpha Mare is strong in them. It makes troop movements easier and more natural to the horses.” He patted the head of his horse. “Angel is a fine steed. She is very sure-footed, having never faltered or stumbled on the battlefield.”

  “She’s beautiful.” Running her hands over the horse’s flanks Tatianna asked, “But isn’t her coloring a problem in battle? Drawing the enemy’s fire and their attention?”

  Sir Richard grinned. “True. But much like your husband, I lead from the front. I want the enemy to see me and if they are focused on me, then my men have a better chance of survival.”

  “I can see how that could be an advantage,” Tatianna said. “But…”

  “Tatianna!”

  The knight and princess paused in their conversation to see Broun running across the camp. Leaping over stumps and campfires, the barefooted halfling ignored the angry looks and curses shot his way from the villagers as he plowed through them.

  Sir Richard set down his brush. “Judging from Broun’s haste this cannot be good news.”

  The halfling slid to a stop a few feet away and nearly fell face first into the snow.

  Tatianna asked, “What is so urgent Broun?”

  It’s Lodur,” Broun said between breaths. “He’s dying.”

  Without waiting for more of an explanation, Tatianna moved off toward the far side of the village where the lowlanders were housed. Broun and Sir Richard followed in her footsteps. Reaching the tipi, Tatianna paused at the flap.

  “Enter mother of the future,” came a weak voice from within.

  Ducking under the flap, Tatianna entered the tent and moved to the mystic’s bedside. “You summoned me?”

  Turning his pale eyes toward the elf, Lodur was about to say something when a coughing fit wracked his frail form. Covering his mouth with an old handkerchief, Lodur wiped away the blood and spoke in a small voice. “Yes. I am dying. I knew this day would come. I foresaw it many, many years ago.”

  Tatianna placed a gentle hand on him. “What did you foresee old one?”

  “The dream has become reality…the sleeper has awakened…the imprisoned will become free.”

  Tatianna shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  As Lodur had another coughing fit, Anasazi and Hawkeye entered the tent followed by the three companions. Once again wiping away blood Lodur said, “The tale foretold is coming. Not a black tale… nor a white tale but a grey tale.”

  Anasazi pulled out several pouches and began to mix their contents in a small bowl of water. Handing it to the old halfling he said, “Here old one… drink this.”

  Taking the offered bowl, Lodur seemed to gain strength from the strange elixir. Looking around he asked, “Where is the Dragon and the Axe? Why are they not here?”

  Anasazi shook his head. “They have not arrived old one.”

  Lodur waved his hand. “No matter. I cannot wait for them. My time is near.” Holding his hand out toward Matanza the centaur the old mystic said, “Take my hand. I would have you know your future before I leave this world.”

  Mataza hesitated briefly before following the mystic’s instructions.

  Lodur’s voice was strong as he said, “If you fight in the coming battle you shall sire no foals but live to aid the one foretold. If you fail to aid the eagle, you shall sire many stallions but always live under a shadow.”

  Turning to Broun, Lodur held out his hand. Once the younger halfling grabbed the old mystic’s hands, Lodur spoke. “You too have choices; aid the eagle and your son shall sing of your deeds but fail in your task and you shall have riches untold but die in the dark.”

  Lodur turned his milky white eyes at the Knight Commander of Krantos. “You know your fate more than I do therefore we will speak of it later.”

  Sir Richard just nodded his head and watched as Hawkeye took the mystic’s hand.

  “I will not waste my energy to tell you of the paths which lay before you. You already know the
m and have chosen the one less travelled; even I cannot see through the mists that cover your tracks. However I do see light within the darkness and darkness with the light.”

  Lodur turned to face Tatianna. “You too will face hard choices. I would echo the northwind in reminding you that your temper is dangerous and that only one can be saved.”

  Turning last to Anasazi, Lodur reached out quickly and grabbed the ancient shaman’s hand. A look that was part pain and part fear rolled across his face. “I know you!”

  Before he could say anything more another fit of coughing, more violent than the last one, wracked his body and foamy blood pooled on the side of his mouth. Calmly, Anasazi passed one hand over the halfling’s eyes and muttered a short prayer. The old mystic’s breathing seemed to become easier. Anasazi added a pinch of hemlock to the bowl of herbs and handed it to Lodur once again.

  “Drink this old one. There is nothing to fear. Death is but another form of the dream.”

  Taking a deep drink, Lodur nodded. “Thank you. I have struggled to walk the dream but my time is here. The dream has ended.”

  Closing his milky white eyes for the last time, Lodur the mystic died.

  Anasazi placed a hand on Lodur’s forehead. “Be at peace old one, be at peace.”

  * * * * *

  On the night of Lodur’s death, Hawkeye called a gathering of the whole Highland Nation.

  Hawkeye had spent much of the last month with his War Council and Sir Richard making the necessary preparations for the coming war. Many did not agree with his decision to take the fight to the Dark Alliance. A few thought it would be suicide to attack the larger army, while others believed they should run into the mountains and hide. Some just believed it was Hawkeye’s foolish pride or the need for revenge that drove the Wolflord to attack Blackfang, yet none could or would challenge his authority. Only Sir Richard truly grasped the boldness and soundness of Hawkeye’s plan.

  The Wolflord quickly came to admire and respect the older knight’s opinions, especially those concerning warfare. Sir Richard was a veteran of many battles and he understood that you cannot win a defensive battle; to win, you must attack.